


Wash Away These Tears, Find That Which Lies Within

by Enochianess



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9553241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enochianess/pseuds/Enochianess
Summary: “What happened?”Achilles reaches out until he can wind his arms around Patroclus’ waist, and then presses his face into his lover’s stomach. Patroclus can feel the wetness of tears, can feel the overheated skin of his cheeks. It makes him ache.“I came so close. So close to killing him.”





	

_And beneath the metal, beneath the hard bronze of battle, there lies within,_

_Achilles._

_A man not of the earth, nor of the heavens. A man spun of gold, sweet as molasses and rich as ambrosia._

_Oh Achilles, sweet Achilles. Hardened by war, dulled by the world._

_What have they done to you?_

_Pa-tro-clus,_ comes the voice of Achilles. His voice is rough, hoarse, so unlike the way he should sound, the way he sounds in Patroclus’ not so distant memory.

Patroclus turns and as their eyes meet, Achilles falls to his knees with the clang of his armor. He pulls off his helmet and throws it aside, lets his head hang toward his chest, his golden ringlets bronzed from the blood of his victims.

“What happened?”

Achilles reaches out until he can wind his arms around Patroclus’ waist, and then presses his face into his lover’s stomach. Patroclus can feel the wetness of tears, can feel the overheated skin of his cheeks. It makes him ache.

“I came so close. So close to killing him.”

Achilles is trembling, his shoulders hitching as he tries to keep himself together in one piece. Patroclus can see the cracks, can see the way he’s beginning to tear at the seams. _Why him?_ Patroclus wants to ask the gods. _Out of all the men you place in this world, why must you have chosen him?_

Chiron’s words come back to him then: _There is no law that gods must be fair._

 _But if only we had known,_ Patroclus thinks. _Maybe we could have had more time, delayed this infernal war._

“You’re still here, Achilles. We’re still here.”

Achilles leans back and looks up at Patroclus with green eyes that drag him down into their depths, trap him, encase him, _drown_ him.

“But for how long?”

Patroclus lowers himself down in front of Achilles and runs his fingers through his hair, gently unknotting it as he goes. “I don’t know.”

“I think it will be soon. I can feel it. I’m going to die.”

“Don’t speak like that.”

“But it is the truth.”

“Then let us never tell the truth again.”

Achilles hums unhappily and with a sigh he collapses forward onto Patroclus’ chest. Patroclus will always catch him, will always be able to take the weight. Achilles is tired, so incredibly tired.

“Will you let me wash you?” Patroclus asks. The smells of sweat and blood, metallic and potent, are overpowering and Patroclus wants them gone. He wishes to smell the sweetness that is all Achilles, the slight tang of almonds, the oil of pomegranate and sandalwood that he used to put on his feet. Patroclus yearns for the smells of their youth, seeks it as he presses his face into the curve of Achilles’ neck. It is faint, but it is there, and it makes Patroclus smile for the first time in what feels like weeks.

“You can. But gently.”

“Always.”

Patroclus walks over to the pail of water in the corner and carries it over, grabbing a cloth and dropping it inside. He settles before Achilles, who is now staring down at a spot on the ground. Patroclus hooks a finger beneath his chin and tilts his head up until their eyes lock. Achilles’ eyes fill with tears and he gives a little sniffle, soft and heartbreaking and so childlike that Patroclus has to push down the urge to wrap him in his arms and never let him go. Instead he leans forward and presses their lips together in a dry wisp of a kiss.

“You’re safe, Achilles. For tonight, you’re safe.”

Achilles nods and gives a wobbly smile, his bloodied hands reaching out until they’re gripping tightly to Patroclus’ shoulders.

“The water has been in the sun all afternoon. It should be warm.”

Patroclus lifts the cloth from the water and wrings it out.

“Will you wash my hands first? They’re always covered in blood. Seems I can never get it off.”

Patroclus nods and takes one of Achilles’ hands from his shoulder, begins to slowly wipe the blood from his palm. He takes care over the sores and split skin, cleans softly until the creases are no longer pooled with red. He does the same with the other hand and then presses kisses to each fingertip, to both palms with devotion. Achilles shakes from the tenderness, gasps at the whisper of Patroclus’ lips against his hardened skin. _Pa-tro-clus._

 _I’m here,_ Patroclus thinks. And Achilles knows. He always knows.

Patroclus cleans the cloth and then lifts it to dab at Achilles’ forehead. He brushes it lightly across the sun-kissed skin, over the lines that are now etched into the fabric of his face. He was once so young, but is now old beyond his age, beaten down be war and the weight of a million lost souls.

“There you are.” Patroclus whispers as he drags the cloth over Achilles’ eyelids and cheeks. “I knew you were in there somewhere.”

Achilles smiles and reaches up to smooth his hands along Patroclus’ forearms. Goosebumps rise in their wake, the fine hairs standing on end. Patroclus thinks he will never tire of his touch, will always crave it with a crippling need. _Ah, my dear Achilles._

“I please you still?”

Patroclus drags the cloth down Achilles neck and over his shoulders, smiles as he washes him, but does not look up. “You will never not please me. No matter what you do. No matter how many you kill.”

Achilles chest hitches at that and Patroclus glances up to see him preen. It is nice to see the old look of satisfaction on his face.

“Stand up. I need to wash the rest of you.”

Achilles obeys without question. It is funny, Patroclus thinks, that Achilles can command so many thousands of men, will not budge in his judgment, yet will not hesitate to follow Patroclus’ instruction.

They fall silent as Patroclus finishes cleaning him, reverent and gentle, washing away the battle, the hurt. By the time he is done and looks up, Achilles is swaying a little on his feet with his eyes closed.

“Are you tired, Achilles?”

Achilles hums in reply and slides his fingers through Patroclus’ dark hair. “Come to bed with me.”

“We need to wash your hair first. I want to see the gold as I look up at you.”

Achilles drops back to the ground and crosses his legs. “Go ahead.”

Patroclus’ hands come away red as he begins to scrub at the matted tresses; he swallows thickly as it rushes between his fingers and into the pail of water. Achilles sighs heavily as he watches, but he does not move, does not say anything. Some things are better left unspoken, Patroclus thinks. It’s less real that way, less painful.

Afterward, once Achilles is clean and his hair is dripping, cool rivulets running down his chiseled chest and down, they climb into bed. Patroclus shucks out of his tunic and smiles as Achilles pulls him to him. The heat of their bodies pressed so tightly together is pleasurable enough to make Patroclus tremble. Achilles pulls him closer still, so close that they’re almost fused into one being.

“Tell me we will be together always.” Achilles whispers.

“Nothing in this world or beyond could tear me away from you.”

“In this life and the next?”

“For all eternity.”

“And if I should die tomorrow?”

“I will follow.”

Achilles smiles sadly and rolls them until he’s hovering above Patroclus. He cradles his face in his hands and leans down to press their lips together. _Pa-tro-clus._

 _I’m here,_ Patroclus thinks as he stares up him. _I’ve got you._

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](http://enochianess.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you liked it, please leave kudos or comments!


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